


Now I can see happiness is for me

by BrutalWarElf



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Apodyopis, Brief mention of Past Abuse, Gymnophoria, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrutalWarElf/pseuds/BrutalWarElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toki is reluctant to take his shirt off and Skwisgaar's mind is doing overtime. Prompt fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I can see happiness is for me

**Author's Note:**

> For Psychedelic Goolash

Playing gigs was nerve-wracking enough in itself without the added oppressive heat of the American summer. Lugging the speaker cabinets out of their van into the back of the worn-out metal bar had him sweating like an otter in no time even though Nathan tried to spare him a little. That was a nice sentiment, but he never shied away from physical labour.

Toki only ever regretted growing his hair out in this kind of weather, when perspiration matted it at the back of his neck an made his scalp itch.

After they’d dumped all the amps haphazardly on the small stage Toki went out into the humid night air again to help Skwisgaar with his guitars. Skwisgaar owned two white Gibson Explorers, one tuned in drop C and on in drop D, and a spare black and white one, which he insisted on taking with him wherever they went. Toki picked up his own case with the Flying V and the spare, kicking doors open so he wouldn’t have to put his cases down and holding them open with his foot so that they wouldn’t fall shut in Skwisgaar’s face. It was becoming a practiced routine.

Connecting all the wires and the pedals went smoothly for once, and they were actually on schedule with the sound check. The red stage lights overhead added extra heat to the already hot and stuffy venue, and a set of embarrassing stains started spreading underneath his arms and the strap of his guitar.

He glanced over at Skwisgaar, who pulled off his white shirt while the sound engineer moved on to Nathan’s mic. If only he had the courage to do the same; he was very self-conscious about the scars on his back and made a point of keeping them covered at all times.

Skwisgaar caught his eye before pointedly looking at his damp shirt and raising an eyebrow. Toki pretended not to understand and shrugged from the other side of the stage.

All through the snippet of the song they played for the benefit of the sound engineer he felt Skwisgaar’s eyes pricking on his skin. Toki briefly entertained a fantasy that it was because Skwisgaar wanted him to bare his skin, because he wanted to see him shirtless. Fantasising about his bandmate exponentially increased the shame he felt about the possibility of exposing his scars, and his stomach did a backflip at the idea of undressing in front of Skwisgaar.

It was a hopeless crush, and he had told himself to get over Skwisgaar countless times, but the feelings of devotion and burning desire were not so easily changed.

 

 

The can of beer felt cool against his neck for all of fifteen seconds. By the time he lifted up his hair to run the can across the back of his neck it was already tepid. He cracked it open and took a long drink.

‘You should ditch the shirt, Toki.’

He choked on his beer until it came out of his nose.

‘No, seriously, it looks pretty disgusting.’ Skwisgaar said.

 _Shit_.  

 

 

Skwisgaar couldn’t help but notice the way Toki’s wet shirt plastered against his defined musculature while he rubbed a cold can of beer across his neck. How did Toki make such an innocent gesture seem so sensual? And how was he even this ripped at his age? Skwisgaar realized he’d never even seen him without a shirt on, even though the weather here must be killing him at times.

He’d had enough of imagining what lay beneath that grubby t-shirt and decided to play him a little. Toki usually took directions from him well enough, so it was worth a shot.

Sidling up to him, close enough to touch, he murmured: ‘Ditch the shirt, Toki.’

Toki spluttered and blushed like Skwisgaar knew he would.

‘No, seriously, it looks pretty disgusting. You have to think about our image when we get on stage in a minute.’

It looked like he wasn’t going to take the bait despite Skwisgaar’s goading; he was still wearing his shirt when they lined up to enter the stage.

The audience cheered half-heartedly when Skwisgaar followed Nathan out into the spotlight. They started playing like a well-oiled machine; Skwisgaar got swept up in the heavy rhythm, following Pickles’ steady beats until it was time for his solo.

He glanced over at Toki to time their call and response sequences and almost missed a beat. Sweat slicked Toki’s bare torso, biceps and pecs rippling with the motions of his fretting. _Careful what you wish for_ , he thought wryly to himself while he tore his eyes off of Toki’s skin just in time to launch into the solo.

Toki could break him in half with arms like that, came the unbidden thought when he had time to string his thoughts together again. He shivered with the notion.

Skwisgaar moved closer to Toki during the intro to the next song. The damp hair that stuck to Toki’s lower back flung tiny droplets against Skwisgaar’s skin when he started pinwheeling to Pickles’ blast beats.

When Skwisgaar caught a brief glance of raised welts criss-crossing all over Toki’s back, he did miss a couple of notes.

No wonder he always kept that awful shirt on.

A mixture of morbid curiosity and smouldering want distracted him throughout their entire set, throwing him back and forth between questions of _why_ and _who_ and wondering what his legs looked like, his ass, his –

 

 

Girls flocked to him when they had drinks at the bar after the show, but all they did was block his view of Toki for as far as he was concerned. Toki was back in his damp shirt, looking a little overwhelmed by the attention he was getting from audience members wanting to congratulate him on a good gig.

After his fourth beer most of his inhibitions were quelled enough to get up and make his way to Toki’s side.  He put an arm around his shoulders and walked him to the dim backstage room.

Skwisgaar plucked at Toki’s smelly, wet shirt.

‘Is it the scars?’

Toki froze in his steps.

Reluctantly, he nodded.

‘You don’t have to be ashamed.’ He ushered Toki through the door, trailing his down his arms. ‘Can I see?’

Toki drew in a shuddering breath as he let Skwisgaar pull the shirt over his head.

‘What happened?’

‘I – I guess I wasn’t the child my parents wanted me to be.’ He sounded stoic and detached, like he was talking about someone else.

‘ _Goddamn ._ ’ Skwisgaar swore under his breath while he ran his fingers across the ridges. He turned Toki around to face him, brushed his wet and tangled hair out of his face.

‘You know you’re wanted here, yes?’ He blurted out impetuously, inching closer. ‘By all of us – by me.’

Skwisgaar opened his arms in an echo of _I want you in this band,_ and Toki practically threw himself at him.

They met somewhere halfway between the awkward hug Toki was going for and the kiss Skwisgaar intended; slowly mapping out sweat slick skin and brushing lips carefully against each other. The feel of solid muscles sliding against his chest had him rock hard in no time, but something kept him from using Toki like the next best groupie.

He deserved better, which was exactly what Skwisgaar was going to give him – when the time was right.

 

   

   

 


End file.
